


An Honor and a Privilege

by KitschyKit



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale's True Form (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Genderqueer Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Vaginal Fingering, unbeta'd AGAIN because I'm a MESS with no time management
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22946590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitschyKit/pseuds/KitschyKit
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale celebrate New Year's Eve and a callback to the roaring twenties, but they mostly celebrate the anniversary of their arrangement.A small discord server gift featuring naughty angels, auras of love, and a few-too-many eyes.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 100
Collections: MFU Palentine's Day Exchange





	An Honor and a Privilege

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samvelg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samvelg/gifts).



Crowley moaned, lovely and loud in the dim bookshop, fingers clenched in Aziraphale’s birch blonde hair. The low lamps casted a hypnotic glow, one that made Crowley’s flapper dress shimmer and gleam like golden scales. 

Xe dripped with gold and was dripping wet, three of Aziraphale’s thick fingers inside of xir, gold body chains spilling to the floor, a headband with an angel’s feather tucked in it. Xe was royalty and xe knew it, legs spread in Aziraphale’s armchair, strategically placed for him to kneel and _worship_ : it was idolatry at its finest, and Aziraphale was nothing if not a devoted collector of the rare and blasphemous. 

And Aziraphale wanted to _keep xir._

It had been 92 minutes and 56 seconds until 2020, and Crowley had decided to join Aziraphale in the past by dressing up for it, slipping on one of xir old favorites from a century ago. 

Aziraphale had made it through two and a half glasses of champagne before he broke, moving to stand before Crowley in _his_ armchair, the demon pretty and pleased with xirself, eyes wide and innocent as the rest of London counted down to the Christian New Year. 

Aziraphale had asked permission to kiss xir at the stroke of midnight, because he was a gentleman. Aziraphale then slid his fingers up xir dress, because he was also a bastard. 

Crowley had whined and squirmed when he touched them then, and hadn’t stopped whining since, shameless in xir begging as Aziraphale stuffed xir full, tongue lapping at xir clit. 

This wasn’t the direction Crowley had anticipated their arrangement anniversary going, but xe was sinfully pleased nonetheless. 

Xir hands twitched and fumbled, roaming every part of him that Crowley could reach, xir shimmering nails burnished gold against his cotton shirt and leather suspenders. Suspenders that Crowley knew for a _fact_ had a pair of matching sock garters. 

Xe could almost pretend that it _was_ a century ago, that they had resolved their argument with lipstick-stained teeth and tangled limbs instead of shaky distance and lonely nights. 

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” xe whispered instead, thighs spasming with every gentle lick. “I love you, I love you _so much- ah- there please—_ “ 

His fingers twisted and curled, stroking thick inside of xir, as meticulous in this as he was in anything, utterly devoted to bringing xir to the edge. 

Crowley’s stockings had gotten ripped— cheap things, _made_ to be torn off— skin soft and warm and _human_ where he touched xir. His teeth nipped at xir thigh, a wet kiss soothing the bruise as the hint of stubble burned xir skin. 

Aziraphale’s eyes were closed, but within the span of a second, _all_ of his eyes were open, the holy blue eyes of his corporation reflected _dozens_ of times over, leaving Crowley exposed and bare under the watchful gaze of Heaven’s guardian. 

Crowley’s hips rolled up, a motion made of pure instinct as xe shuddered, desperate for friction from his tongue. Eyes floated around them, the low light making them _gleam_ with celestial intent. 

Crowley laughed, breathless and adoring, and xe arched xir back and placed themselves on display, hips rocking as hot pleasure shocked xir system— so vain and carefree and lovely that Azirapahle’s entire soul _ached._

It was a rumble of summer thunder in his core; the first rain, where he found his _purpose_. 

Protecting Crowley. 

Crowley, his other partner, his ultimate familiarity, this gorgeous being that still managed to surprise and delight. 

Aziraphale circled xir clit with his tongue, pleased with the small cry it produced, the heat of the ocean melting in his mouth, kitten-weak hands tugging him closer by his hair. He curled his fingers slowly, increasing the pressure, and felt those hands turn into desperate _claws_. 

Crowley came hard enough that xe didn’t make a sound, trembling thighs locked in a painful clench, blinding waves rushing through xir and making xir whole body _throb—_

Crowley gasped, and the tension broke, fingers dancing and twisting in Aziraphale’s hair, whining as they shuddered—

Aziraphale saw _all_ of it, from the bright staccato bursts of pleasure to the stuttered moan to the way xir hair tangled in xir jewelry, too overcome to even mind the miracle to keep it perfect. 

The _love_ Aziraphale felt wash over him was well nurtured, a love Crowley had cultivated over time, something Aziraphale could feel now that he _allowed_ himself to, and he felt it keenly. _Reverently_. 

Crowley came down from it: from one of many the human highs, the bright spark of _Holy, Joy, Pleasure,_ and Aziraphale stood, removing his fingers slowly. But he kept his palm cupped to xir sex, possessive, soothing, repentant, and he _smiled_ , and all of his eyes smiled with him. 

“I fell in love with you a millennia ago, did you know that?” Aziraphale murmured as he leaned over xir, the breath between the words deeply contemplative. “I like that word, _millennia_. What a lovely word humans made, for a length of time all of them will never see.” 

The happiness in Crowley’s aura went from a sensual red to the shocked joy of yellow and then back again. 

“A _millennia_? Fancy that,” xe grinned, still a little breathless. “Have it down to the day, do you?”

“ _Yes_ , you wicked thing.” 

Crowley tipped xir head back against the chair to look up at him with lidded gold eyes and a knowing smirk. “Was it when I gave you an apple to seal the deal of the arrangement and you promptly threw it back at me?” 

“It was when you had crumbs in your hair.” Aziraphale sighed, and his voice was fond, the wonder of new infatuation clear in that often-visited memory. “It was just you, in the moment, just existing, and you were so utterly human all I wanted to do was extend that moment just a little bit longer, to have the privilege of watching you.” 

Crowley’s adoration was a twinkling cloud pink, reminiscent of the renaissance, xir gaze fixed on him. “ _Angel.”_

Crowley bucked their hips into his hand, trying to prompt him into moving, but Aziraphale shook out his wings instead, flaring them out to further mantle over Crowley. “It took me so long to realize it, and then just a little bit longer to admit it, but now it’s all I want to do. All I want to do is _love_ _you_.” 

“ _Aziraphale.”_

Crowley’s love was an impatient orange, tart with its flusteredness, and Aziraphale used one finger to stroke the core of them, steady and teasing. “What say you to another round, my dear?” 

“You can’t just _confess_ things like that.” Crowley’s embarrassed groan bled into a low and velvet plum. 

“I want to watch you now,” Aziraphale said instead. “I would keep you here for eternity, just to see you at your happiest.” 

Crowley’s embarrassment snapped, and xe surged up to greedily rub xir hands against his chest, pulling him closer, affectionate as xe muttered. “You are _so_ creepy.” 

“You love it.” 

“It makes me feel like a _star,”_ Crowley emphasized, . “I’m all dressed up and everything. Was this all an excuse to make your own private porno because the lighting could really—“ 

Aziraphale swooped down to kiss xir and then didn’t stop. 

“I wanted to start off the year right.” He confessed to the air between them. “The first year devoted entirely to _us.”_

Crowley’s hands shifted down to his hips, tugging at wool trousers. “Then let me make you feel good, make it equal.” 

Aziraphale hummed. “That’s not how we agreed sex would work.” 

Beseeching sulphuric eyes glared up at him. “That rule is only in place because you’re _insatiable.”_

“I delight in your ecstasy,” Aziraphale murmured, as he pressed their foreheads together. “In you. In our side.” 

Crowley’s love was a harsh celestial white, and Aziraphale knew that to bite the forbidden fruit was to love like God loved: with one’s entire being. 

A white-hot Star, the swirling broth of the materials for the universe, and Crowley was its compass due north. Human curiosity to human innovation to human progression. 

To experience Crowley’s love was to experience Her love. 

“Aziraphale I swear if you don’t get inside of me right now you utter romantic bastard _angel—“_

Aziraphale kissed xir as he complied, groaning even as he grinned. “Oh? You’ll swear? Tell me who you’d swear to darling, you usually go through a list.” 

Crowley’s legs trembled, breath hitched up as xe was filled. “I don’t have to tell you anything you _complete_ bastard.” 

“What if I ask nicely?” Aziraphale purred with one lazy thrust. “What then?” 

Aziraphale knew he wore wickedness well when Crowley’s love turned to an anticipatory eager green. 

Crowley swallowed, laughter hummingbird sweet. “You're always nice anyway, that’s no incentive. Be _mean_ to me angel, take what you want.” 

“What a tempting invitation, my dear but I’m afraid I must decline.” Aziraphale leaned closer to bury his face in Crowley's hair, pinning one flexible thigh to xir chest. “What I want is to immerse myself in your love, and that is something I will not simply _take_.” 

Aziraphale ground his hips into Crowley’s, and felt the bright spark of xir aura flash with pleasure. “It’s something I must create, if I am to gorge myself on you darling.” 

Crowley’s moan was radiant and warm and xe looked up at him through xir lashes with an innocent smile delicately garnished with a dash of mischief. “Would you be _mean_ to me, Angel? If I told you how much I’d love it?” 

Aziraphale hummed. “I would sing your praises.” 

“If I said I wanted it rough?” 

“I would take my time.” 

“If I told you I loved every bruise you left on me? If I asked you nicely to pull my hair and said thank you for coming on my—” 

Aziraphale kissed xir, cupping xir jaw tenderly, before solidifying his grip to prevent Crowley from biting him. “You wicked Serpent. I am making love to you and there is _nothing_ you can do about it.” 

_“Angel.”_ The protest was pitiful, but Crowley’s love was a doe-eyed and giddy blue. 

Aziraphale’s smile curled up, keeping his face close for more kisses. “Although now I have a delightful little checklist for tomorrow.” 

“ _Oh,”_ Crowley mocked, pushing up from the chair to rock into his slow thrusts. “As long as you have a _checklist,_ I guess I can just resign myself to being put off like tomorrow’s shopping.” 

Aziraphale thumbed over xir clit, finding a steady rhythm, and he grinned into xir neck. “Something tells me you’re awfully neglected.” 

“I _am,_ thank you _ever_ so much for agreeing,” Came the stuttered melodrama as Crowley’s back arched, demanding burnt claws digging into his ribs to pull him closer, harder. 

The colors of Crowley’s love swirled around them, visible only to Aziraphale’s scattered eyes, spectrums of light unseen but keenly felt. Under their currents was Crowley’s own demonic essence, xir wings and broken halo vibrating like struck metal in a different plane of reality. 

Imprints of scales rippled down xir skin, threatening to manifest as xir moans grew louder, and Aziraphale caught every movement, every inhale and twitch and flood of sensation that passed like a circuit into xir true form, the echoed outline flickering as xir pleasure built. 

Trauma and hope are not diametrically opposed, but are intertwined as a challenge and it’s answer. To love and be loved is an ability you learn and never lose, but might have to re-learn anyway: something that can be warped but never broken. 

Aziraphale kissed xir softly, buried inside of xir, more than a little overwhelmed. “It is a privilege of the highest honor,” he whispered. “To be loved by you.” 

Crowley’s claws gripped the base of his wings, burned and scarred and bright and _happy._ “Show me?” 

Aziraphale did. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting a work with xe/xir/xirself pronouns so if I've made a mistake somewhere please correct me!


End file.
